Beauty Queens
by Reanne100
Summary: AU. Once Upon a Time and slightly in the future not only have Child Beauty Pageants became accepted but a way of life. With the prize of Beauty Queen ensuring glory and power some parents will do anything for their child to win, no matter the cost. Cora reminisces about where Regina went so terribly wrong. Young Swan Queen Two-shot. *FINISHED*
1. Chapter 1

Regina,

Looking back I can only focus on where things started to go wrong. Of course there are plenty of memories to choose from, but I think I finally have it down to one particular incident.

We were running late. Literally running. We were in the long and convoluted backstage corridors. It was one of many arenas scheduled to televise the weekly event. The area we were in was oddly sparse and unpopulated which led me to believe we were hopelessly lost. The place was garishly lit by clinically bright florescent bulbs which made the luminously painted doors in various hues of pink and purple look oddly surreal, not unlike a child's fantasy. The doors tried to hint at endless possibilities. They wanted to be portals leading to worlds of magic, populated by talking unicorns that threw up rainbows and monsters that turned into beautiful princesses. Yes, I was definitely not getting enough oxygen into my brain. Turning a beast into a beauty took much more effort than waving a magic wand.

When we finally rounded a corner and spotted the other contestants I instantly slowed our run into a majestic, if not slightly out of breath, strut. I was too dignified to run even if it would mean omitting your facial (which you were direly in need of). Clutching your hand tightly I barged through the members of the crowd idiotic enough not to move out of our way. The ones who recognised us scrambled obsequiously to the sides and I smirked basking in the glow of your former victories. Not one of these sluts could beat you. They were privileged to be in our company, even for the brief moments we brushed past them. At that moment in time I thought the looks they gave us were full of awe or at least hatred, but I regarded our status too highly; they were mostly likely looks of mild annoyance.

I had ordered an executive dressing room to prepare in so we wouldn't have to share with the masses. Before we entered I imagined a room draped in deep red throws covered in golden satin pillows with a team of stylists buzzing around us. In reality what we received was glorified cupboard next to the boiler room which had clearly seen better days. The eggshell paint was peeling off the walls and over the dressing table hung an old and cliché 'Hollywood chic' mirror, complete with blown out light bulbs and a warped frame.

In the corner of the room was your supposed 'stylist'. Her tastelessly red clothes were not only about 30 years out of date but her makeup was piled on so thick she looked like a circus clown. The only thing funny about her performance was the assumption she would be helping us. After a few brutally chosen words she practically sprinted out of the room.

With perfect skill and precision I placed your raven hair into heated rollers. I was mentally reeling off the long list of things that needed to be done before you even began to look acceptable when there was a knock at the door. In annoyance I wrenched it open to reveal a man. He stood loosely leaning on a cane composed in what would once have been an acceptable suit. He was there to hawk last minute beautification products. Like a morbidly obese cook he had clearly been indulging himself a little too much in his own products as his face was grotesquely golden and almost scaly. I wondered if this was a procedure you could have done, then for the talent portion of the competition we could work out a mermaid routine.

He smiled a sickeningly bright and obnoxious grin which revealed a set of white teeth not unlike a piranha. He gave me his best slick look and began to rattle off his sales pitch. "Hello dearies. I'm Mr Gold. I specialise in all your last minute pageant needs. Hair and lash extensions, manicures, pedicures, fake tanning, eyebrow waxing and hair removal. We even offer competitively priced cosmetic procedures that I bet you didn't think could get done last minute! Botox, cheek and lip fillers, nose adjustment, tooth removal and porcelain replantation and for today only 20 minute liposuction. All are outpatient procedures that guarantee your little princess will be ready to shine again in under an hour."

I hissed "Do we look like amateurs to you" and gestured to your eyes. They truly were a work of art. The bandages had only just come off. I was always disappointed that you were born with common brown eyes and when the percentage of vision loss came down to an acceptable margin of only 12% I told you we were going to have them changed. You screamed the house down because I wouldn't let you have them changed to purple; that would clash with your orange talent dress and you'd look like a walking Halloween cliché. We went with the most cutting edge procedure they offered. Your eyes were like an iridescent hologram shimmering and alternating between bright glittering gold and emerald green.

I was glad to see the salesman's smile diminish as he realised he would be without a sell. I turned to usher him out of the room but remembered you would be getting tired soon.

I lowered my voice and pulled him closer "on second thoughts I'm running low on 'Magic'". He eyed me warily before giggling. He reaching into his inner pocket and producing a tiny clear plastic bag with a small amount of crushed electric blue coloured crystal in it.

"Wait" I said "I'll need double that". I would need something for myself to take the edge off; it was going to be a long day. I asked him what he wanted for it and he replied "A favour. Future compensation". He giggled again. At the time I didn't think anything of it. I should have.

The man left and I mixed the powder in with your usual industrial strength energy drink and handed it over to you.

It kicked in as I finished your makeup. While you were now full of energy it was the restless kind. You wanted to run around and play which made taking out your rollers an unbearable annoyance. When it came time to backcomb and hair-spray you started fidgeting more than I could control. The comb got caught in the perfect web of your strategically messed up hair. Trying to free it did nothing but agitate you more. You were screaming in discomfort and I was screaming back at you because if you weren't being such a brat this wouldn't have happened. I don't know what made me do it. I'm certain I didn't mean too. But the stuck comb in your hair made an almost perfect lever. It was the stick controlling the tangle of strings above a puppet. Only before I could comprehend what was happening I had used the newly found control to smash your head against the mirror.

**Alright the second and final part is coming soon, as is Swan I promise! Please comment and subscribe. 3**


	2. Chapter 2

The mirror was so cheap it didn't even shatter. The only evidence it had ever happened was a small indentation a third of the way up and a little to the left.

My eyes stayed fixated on that point for a long time and I will never be able to forget the seemingly endless silence that followed. I finally looked at you. You just stared into the distance. I broke the limbo with a jilted stream of apologies that all seemed meaningless. My watch told me it was time to go. I gently pulled the comb from your hair with no resistance. That was when I noticed your eyes. The left was stuck on green and the right on gold. We never did manage to fix that.

I led you to the stage wing while giving you the half-hearted pep talk on how you needed to behave to win. It didn't seem like that would be a problem today, you were still mute. I told myself you were just sulking and went to the audience to wait.

I took my seat across from one of our rivals. I don't suppose you would remember her. She was called Snow, although I can't believe any parent would be tacky enough to call their kid that. I think remember hearing something about her death recently; sometimes a cutting edge cosmetic procedure can cut a little too close.

I took a moment to glare at her before the presenter started to cackle. I've re-watched the event so many times I know her spiel word for word, down to her infuriating fake southern belle accent.

"Hey ya'll Miss Londa here welcoming you to Maine's 167th Royalty Spirit Stars Beauty Pageant! Today's age class; five to six are beautiful girls ready to glisten and shine in front of our very own home-grown judges and previous pageant winners! Today's competitors are all vying for the grand prize of twenty-five thousand coins and the prestigious title of Ultimate Supreme Diamond Grand Champion! We kick off the pageant with today's round Beauty, which as you know is weighted the most heavily!"

After a steady stream of untalented ugly little losers it was Snow's daughters turn. I think she was called Emma, or Emily. Something common. She swanned onto stage and was illuminated in a moment of intense light. My eyes adjusted and she was softly glowing. No, that's not the right word. Sparkling. She was wearing a dress made purely of what looked like crystal. The long conical slithers cascaded down from where they were suspended at her shoulders and stopped just before they touched the floor. It looked heavy. I was surprised she was still standing. She came closer to the front of the stage and I saw she was blonde with green eyes. Not the intensely bright green of yours but a softer natural colour. The crystals on her dress were frosted in what looked like powdered white glitter. That's when I saw it. A drip snaked down from the glass at her midriff. She was wearing ice.

I leaped up manoeuvring my way out of the aisle. That bitch Snow had taken the wintery nature of her name literally and forced it on her daughter. Your usual wasn't going to cut it today.

Backstage I found you with the ice princess herself. After she'd gotten off stage her petulant smile had broken. She was sobbing. Her technicians attempted remove the gown but the dry patches of icicles had bonded to her skin. This was good news for us; it would be hard for them to cover the uneven colouring of skin loss in time for the next round. You didn't seem to care; you were too busy holding her hand.

Your face had lost the emptiness after the impact. You were smiling sweetly, almost tentatively; staring into that other girl's eyes as though you would take away all of her pain if you could. That smile completed you. Suddenly everything fell into place in a way that it never had before. The transformation was complete. In my mind you were no longer looked like a girl but living breathing plastic. A human doll.

It was your turn. I wrenched your hand away from the blondes and shoved you onto the stage, making sure as I did to knock into some of the ice that had bonded to her. She whimpered. You walked almost mechanically to the centre of the stage. Under the lights the smile was magnified. It would have been perfect if it had not slipped after you were pulled away from her. The smile suddenly became perverse and false. Like someone had knocked your mask askew and you hadn't fixed it back. I remember taking a physical step backwards.

While staring almost blankly at the judges hidden under the impassive mirage of your once beautiful eyes you conveyed pure disgust. I don't know if you understood it but as you scanned the audience you saw them for what they were. Everybody else saw it too. We didn't like it one bit.

For all the expensive designer labels your sequined dress was ludicrously coloured in overly bright neon pink. It looked cheap, tasteless and garish. Your small perfectly rouged lips looked savage as the lipstick shone the colour of fresh blood under the stage lights. Those broken, irreparable eyes were the worst. The time I had spent choosing them, the money I had wasted for the treatment and the inconvenience of looking after a temporarily blinded child and now they were ruined and sickening to me. Their childlike innocence had been shrouded by a whore's mask of thick congealed makeup. All in that still moment of time I saw what I had created; and was repulsed.

After the next few girls had come on stage the moment had been very consciously and purposefully forgotten. Still after that nothing was the same. You didn't win a single title more and a few years later you were too old to compete. Even if I hadn't squandered the fortune you had previously won on more pageants no amount of money could have stopped you aging.

It took me time to realise why you were such a failure. It was because you were natural. No matter how much makeup I forced on you or how many medical procedures we had done you would always have just been a child. It was disgusting. I had bred you to succeed, but you can breed a cow to think it's a horse and it still won't be able to canter.

I won't make the same mistakes twice because I've realised that I made no mistakes in the first place. I did what I had to do for you to succeed. It's not my fault you couldn't cope. But this time will be different. This new pregnancy is already far superior to yours. The baby is designer. I've spent months deciding every detail of its appearance, complexion and yes, eye colour. It won't fail like you because there is nothing natural about it; completely artificial from the moment of conception and nothing predetermined stood in its way. With it I will win my fortune back.

Regina I was angry with you for a long time but I want to make peace. I can't do that in person because you ran away with that blonde when I tried to marry you off. That wasn't my fault either. If you can't win a pageant then you can do nothing else, the only other way for you to get anywhere in life is to marry. So I'm leaving this letter at a gravestone I've found. It's an angel, but her face has been eroded and cracked. I thought you'd appreciate the irony.

Goodbye for now and stay fabulous,

Cora.

**Thank you very much for reading and please rate/review. x**


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